


Sugar Mug(ged)

by ThomE_Gemcity_06



Series: SUGAR [5]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Arguments/Yelling, Bartering, Bedfellows, Bromance, Friendly flirting, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Honesty it's Pre-Slash now, Humor, Innuendo, Mattresses, More Cuddling & Snuggling, Partnership, Possibly Pre-Slash, Sexual Proposition, Subtext, attempted theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomE_Gemcity_06/pseuds/ThomE_Gemcity_06
Summary: Danny intends to get his stolen mug back from Steve, but while at the scene of the crime, he becomes a little advantageous with his time—only to be caught in the act.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the SEQUEL to "A Bag Full of Sugar". This can definitely be considered pre-slash, these guys are seriously comfortable with each other physically and pretty much implying anything and everything without a flinch. Apologies if they appear to be OOC.

**H A W A I I . F I V E - 0**

He had lost count of the times that Steve had broken into his tiny, rat-hole apartment, so he figured that he should start to get his own licks in:

Danny would rather have gone to bed late than have to wake up early, so he decided to go about his not at all inappropriate scavenger hunt in the evening when he knew Steve was out for his usual, inhuman, pre-bedtime workout ritual.

He called it the Reserve SEAL's seeming self-masochistic exercise ritual which the blond was sure included things such as running the circuit of the island on his hands, climbing the cliffs backwards, and swimming under the island (if it could be done, Steve would do it)—you know, Steve-things. They were also things that Danny never _actually_ said to the man for a real fear that the SEAL might actually take it as a challenge and then proceed to get himself killed in a true Steve-fashion.

So Danny just berated him for being unable to change and wiped his hands of the matter—only for Steve to say: " _But you're my partner, Danno."_ And that was the end of the conversation.

Besides, Danny had put too much effort into the man to deal with trying to find another partner that he had to break in, when the two of them fit just fine.

...

Danny stood from the bedside table, his mug in hand. It was one of the only personal things that he'd brought from New Jersey when he was bull-rushed to Hawaii in one of the biggest upsets in his life. It was a mug he'd gotten when he'd finally made detective and got his desk. It was a simple white ceramic coffee mug, with a cheap Newark P.D. logo on either side; but he'd managed to keep it with him since the beginning.

Danny went to turn away and leave the man's bedroom—he'd taken long enough to find the firggin' thing and planned to leave before Steve returned from his run in the hopes that the man wouldn't realize that he was there (though that was unlikely), and be into work before him with this very mug filled with steaming black coffee—only to pause, sidetracked as gazed at the man's queen-sized bed with longing.

That memory-foam had overindulged him. Wrecked his perspective on what a mattress was. "Hm," Danny smirked as it came to him.

Steal his sugar once, shame on him.

Keep his coffee mug in second, shame on Steven.

**0 - xH.50x - 0**

"What the hell are you doing?" Steve exclaimed in an even voice as he came through his kitchen from his lanai from his run—toweling the sweat off with the towel he'd left out on the table outside—to the lights on in his house, and Danny leaned-up at the bottom of his stairs, with a beer in hand.

It wasn't that Danny was in his house, unannounced (he would say uninvited but Danna was _always_ welcome) or the beer that he'd helped himself to—it was the big white square that was leaned up against the wall at the bottom of the stair.

Danny didn't even look perturbed at being caught. "I was looking for the mug that you stole and never returned."

"Yeah?" Steve tossed the towel across his bared shoulder in his sweaty tank top. "And?"

"Found it." Danny nodded, pointed with his chin to the coffee table in front of the couch by the front door. Steve spotted the white, standard issue Newark P.D. mug on his coffee table. " _Why_ exactly it was in your nightstand next to your condoms and lube is a complete wonder to me," he spread his hands, a finger and thumb holding the neck of his half-empty beer.

Steve leaned his shoulder against the open doorframe of the kitchen, crossing his ankles and arms over his chest. "Thought it would be the last or never place that you'd look. Didn't think you'd have the guts to dig around in there," he admitted, wondering how long it was until the big white mattress in the room was addressed.

"Yeah, well, you're my partner." He waved the bottle and took a drink, "I lost reticence long ago—and my gag reflex."

"So, your went through my sex drawer…" Steve reiterated with a straight face.

"Hence the four beers," he gestured back at the coffee table and the three empty bottles that accompanied his mug, "Surprise... while I was rifling through all your personal belongings, I didn't find anything stronger. You should probably drop by the store or something." He finished the bottle and put it on the bottom step of the stairs.

"Noted—If I had known you were stopping by, I would have picked something up." He replied. "So, you found your precious cup—"

"That you've been holding hostage."

"—and decided to...?" he held out his hand in a clueless gesture, completely unable to understand what was going through his partner's head.

"What? Oh, this?" Danny jerked a thumb behind him at memory foam mattress that he had clearly been attempting to steal.

"Yes, that!" Steve shouted in exasperation.

Danny popped his lips, his hands on his hips. "Clearly, no matter what I say you're going to go anger management on me, so I'll just come clean to you... I was totally stealing your mattress." Danny shrugged and made a 'what-can-you-do?' gesture.

He sighed. "I honestly don't know what to say to you right now." Steve put fingertips to his forehead and shook his head. "What kind of man steals another man's bed?"

"A desperate man, Steve." Danny replied honestly and gravely.

"A _cheap_ man." Steve corrected.

"I'm not cheap, Steven! I'm poor!" Danny shouted. "There's a difference, okay? Being cheap means you have the money, but cheat out. Being poor means being POOR!" he tapped his chest, "I live in a hovel, for god's sake! I saved and I saved like a good little boy and I got myself upgraded to a twin—it nearly put me under! Do you have any idea how expensive an unused mattress is? Do you?! I had serious thoughts of selling half my liver,"

"You should probably start with something generic and in double stock, like your kidneys," Steve told him seriously, "before you go for something like the liver. Like you might need that later for something important,"

"Not the point!"

"A _little_ the point," Steve muttered under his breath. Louder, he said: "Selling your organs—obviously illegally—is going a little overboard, Danny."

"You have no idea, Steve." He notified, "You have two under-utilized beds in the house," he gestured up the stairs, "Just use one of _them_."

"That is _my_ bed, Danny!" Steve pointed. "You want another mattress? Fine. Take one from the spare bedrooms—but you're not having mine."

"Are you kidding me?" Danny demanded, insulted. "Your cheap ass skimped on those beds, and you know it. _You_ are the cheap one, my friend."

"You are literally trying to steal my bed right now!"

"Cheap," Danny pointed at him. "Poor," two thumbs turned on himself. "And I will give you 'thief,' free of charge."

"Fine, have it your way—" he straightened from the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "You can have no mattress at all. Have fun with that twin you bought,"

"Now, look..." Danny's tone was suddenly reasonable and less accusing and defensive, "I'm sure we can work something out... like-like—shared custody!" he snapped his fingers as it came to him.

"Shared custody?" Steve laughed. "Of a mattress? Why would I do that, other than you're being utterly insane—and it's my mattress!"

Danny attempted to barter, "How about I do something for you—and you share the mattress?"

"This'll be good." Steve stepped into his living room, pausing halfway to the man, his legs braced and arms crossed over his chest. "Like what, Danno?"

"Um... I'll finally give in and go surfing with you, like you and Kono won't stop badgering me about—with minimal complaint, mind you."

"Not good enough." Steve shook his head.

"I will give you full custody of the keys to the Camaro for a month—and you won't hear a peep about your deep-seeded control issues." He'd long ago given up hope of actually _driving_ his own car, and now he was willingly giving up his right to _complain_ about it.

"That's nothing new to me," Steve denied, brushing the offer off his shoulder, with a tug of his towel, "I have the keys 98% of the time anyway— **and** I've learned to block you out."

"One, I am offended." Danny informed him. "But it was worth a try." He paused in thought and then grimaced at his next offer, "Two, I will eat that freaky Korean sugar that you tried to give me like a demented gift, with your out of season spring-cleaning bid."

Steve gave a faux look of thought before he shook his head. "Nah. I've forgotten that slight—besides... I found a use for that; it's gone now."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "You really built an explosive with it, didn't you?" he sighed, putting his hands over his face. "We should really discuss this explosive fixation, Steven, before it gets even more out of control."

" _My fixation?_ " Steve rolled his eyes. "You must not want **my** mattress that desperately if that's the best you're going to give me." He crumpled the towel in his hands and tossed it onto the couch.

"This bed has ruined me, Steve!" Danny snapped. "My new bed was actually pretty great—it's not foldable, it doesn't creak every time I move, the springs don't pop—and then I slept in your bed... like a soft, warm hug from behind," he brushed his palm over the still-sheeted mattress behind him. "And in front," he gestured at Steve ten feet away, "And now, now my bed feels just like the lumpy, creaky, basic piece of crap and it's just like I'm back on the pullout again!"

Steve gave him a brief, sympathetic crinkle of his brows, before they smoothed and he got a too innocent smirk on his lips. "You wanna cuddle again, Danno?"

"Shut up," his lips twitched. He continued seriously, "Alright, final offer..." he took a deep breath, not a calming one, but a prepping one.

Steve nodded along, waiting and watching the man with a slightly cocked head. "Go on..."

Danny stared at him head-on. "I will sleep with you, Steven."

Steve chuckled. "Been there, done that."

Danny continued to stare.

Steve's laugh tapered off as he _understood_ the man's meaning. "Oh, Danno." he whispered softly.

"I'm serious."

"Yeah." Danny took an involuntary step backwards as Steve closed the short distance between them with a few long strides, his back pressed against the mattress. "You know I love you, but it's too much to degrade yourself like that." His thumb brushed across the blond's cheek. "No. Our first time together ought to be more special than that, Danny."

"Your loss." Danny flicked the other man's fingers from his face. "I would have been the best sex you ever had, Steve."

"I know." Steve smiled. "Alright. Counter proposal," he asserted at the shorter man's pursed lips, his chest still a hair's breadth from Danny's so they brushed with each breath. "I will give you the mattress— **full** ownership…"

Danny perked up but looked at him aside with rightly placed suspicion and apprehension at the poorly concealed gleam in the Commander’s eyes. "But...?"

"But..." Steve rested his hands on the top edge of the mattress against the wall, caging his partner between it and himself. "You have to eat an entire slice of ham and pineapple."

Danny's face instantly went concrete. "Back away, Steve."

Steve sighed in exasperation. "This has completely gotten out of hand, Danny! This is even worse than the clown doll. It's ridiculous! It's just toppings and pizza."

"No, what's ridiculous is you pestering my about it non-stop!" Danny growled through clenched teeth, "Just let it go, alright? I'm not doing that for the millionth time! I offered to throw myself into the path of Jaws on a platter. To eat radioactive sugar poison. To give you my precious car that I never get to drive anyway! All together or your pick of one, you know? Your favourite. Whichever you like best," his hand gestures cut under Steve's raised arms, and around his exposed ribs through the wide armholes that split down the sides of the sweaty tank. "I was going to give you sex and even let you be on top."

"Oh, you were?" Steve asked in a low voice, watching the man.

"Yeah, Steven." Danny nodded firmly. "Because I'm a considerate lover and person, and I know how you hate it when you're not in control and you get aggressive when your forced into vulnerability—that's the kind of friend and partner I am—But _no-o!_ You had to assert you dominance and control over the situation like always, like a stupid alpha male—classic Type A personality—and foul up the situation like a McGarrett—and bring the Devil's Fruit into it." He was left gasping after his breathless rant.

"Devil's Fruit—"

"Shut up, Steven." Danny told him severely. He rose his hands and put them flat on the taller man's chest, and gave him a short shove.

Steve stumbled back a step. "Danny,"

Danny turned for the door and Steve stepped after him, the mattress sliding down the wall and to the floor.

"Keep your mattress, Steven. Keep your pineapples to yourself. You can even have the stupid coffee cup, too!" Danny jabbed an angry hand at his Newark P.D. mug on the coffee table. "I can probably find another one just like it on _eBay._ "

"Daniel!" Steve grabbed his upper arm, jerking him to a halt. "I'm sorry, OK? I know you don't like pineapple—I'm sorry!" Danny jerked back on his arm. "I just like it when you talk."

"What?" Danny said in surprise, turning back just as the man tugged him back—upsetting his balance and causing Danny to stumble into his chest. Steve automatically wrapped his arms around his partner as they tumbled backwards. They both grunted as their fall was caught on the downed mattress. "Jeez, Steve!" Danny exclaimed, looking up at the man that he had fallen onto and was still hugging him. "You're worse than a grabby child who's toy is being taken away!" hands flat on the SEAL's defined chest, he started to push himself up. Steve went rigid, fearing his partner was trying to leave him again. "Relax, babe." Danny saw utterly through his emotionally constipated act. "You just shouted your utter and dying love for me—you just proposed to me, basically. Saying you _love_ to hear me talk."

Steve dropped his arms in allowance and Danny rolled off of him to lay next to him on the mattress, giving a low groan as it immediately hugged his back, forming exactly to him.

Steve chuckled lightly, turning his head to look at the man. "I said 'like,' just for the record."

"And there you go, ruining the moment!" Danny threw his arms up in the air in exasperation, but there was a small smile playing on his lips.

Steve sighed softly, "I'm sorry, Danno. Really."

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered, throwing the back of an arm across his forehead as he continued to look up at the high ceiling, just as Steve continued to watch him. "I heard you the first two times, Steve. I acknowledge your apology and my forgiveness if pending."

"Let me know," he murmured with a half-smile at the familiar exchange.

They laid in silence for a moment, Danny's eyes slipped closed.

"Okay. You've twisted me arm," Steve said. "I'll take the Camaro and you can have my bed."

Danny snorted. "No, thanks. I think I'll be driving for the foreseeable future." He shifted and turned on his side, his back to his partner, his arm folded under his head to act as a pillow.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that, Danny." Steve protested. He turned on his side, head propped up on an elbow, looking at the rather comfortable and stubborn blond man. He placed a warm palm on the man's hip. "Danno?"

"Mm." Danny gave a noncommittal grunt. "I'm buzzed and trying to sleep. What do you want?"

"Oh, so you're staying over now?" he jostled the man's hip lightly, amused. "What happened to trying your damnedest to steal my bed?"

"Well, look where it got me." Danny replied. "I'm down here now, might as well take advantage. Let sleeping dogs lie, McGarrett—though I guess in the SEALs they teach you to poke the hornets nest and then charge right into it."

Steve took a breath and had to almost bite his cheek to stop himself from the retort to Danny’s completely off-base metaphor to a SEAL's temperament, before he released it in a slow breath. "So, what you're really saying in your Danny-wit, is that you've invited yourself over again and into my bed with self-righteousness."

"See? There you go, jabbing at the nest. Not that you should be complaining in the first place." Danny muttered. "Inviting yourself, he says. So it's only _Ohana_ when it's convenient for you? What happened to _you're always invited, Danno_?"

"You're so sensitive sometimes," he commented. "Of course you're always invited, Danny. I was just teasing."

"You have the emotional development of a snail," the detective complained. "And the temperament of a child."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're the one being a child right now. So, are you staying, _Ohana?_ "

"Shut up," Danny told him lightly to the first part. "Are you just going to lay there or be a good host and turn out the lights?" was his answer to the second part. "That's not very hosterly of you, Steven."

"Of course, Sir Daniel." Steve shifted slightly, and he gave two sharp claps.

"What the hell was that for?" Danny jolted at the sharp and sudden sound, jerking halfway around with the demand, getting his answer before he was even finished the question. The house had gone dark, the clear light of the moon shinning through the open lanai doors. "What?"

"Clap-on Clap-off." Steve chuckled.

"What are you, eighty?"

"Aunt Deb took run of the house when she visited. Thought you might like it," he shrugged. "Besides, I'm not the old man here."

"Ugh!" Danny groaned. "Not _that_ again! I'm older than you by a day— **one day!** I regret the day you found out my birthday. I thought they would have blacked that sensitive information in _your_ file."

"It is," he said with a straight face. "But I trust you with the deeply classified information."

"Either I'm drunker than I originally thought," Danny deadpanned, "Or sweet-words—at least in regards to you—are coming out of your mouth." He laid back on his side.

"Definitely the beer," Steve snaked his arm around Danny's waist, shifting closer. "You always were a light-weight _haole_."

"Oh, please!" Danny scoffed. "I can drink you under the table, jarhead—"

"Sailor."

"—if you ever unclenched your ass long enough to allow yourself to have some fun. You might find a friendly disposition will leave you with less people who have the urge to shoot at you than normal—just saying."

Steve snickered immaturely. "You look at my ass, Danno?" was what he chose to glean from the conversation.

Danny groaned and grumbled, " _Of course **that's**_ what you take from the whole thing. My looking at your ass? What the hell else am I expected to look at when you charge ahead without any warning? I don't know what I expected—you're just a freakishly tall man-child!"

"I love you, too, Danno." Steve fitted himself easily and comfortably along the curve of the man's back.

Danny settled after that. He always seemed to after Steve said _that_ , the emotionally constipated man. Because it was not something the SEAL said lightly and to just anyone, in sarcasm, or jest, or tease—especially not where his partner was concerned.

"You couldn't have taken a shower before you went all SEAL-clingy?" Danny groused but a moment later. "You reek like sweat."

"Stop lying to yourself," Steve whispered into his ear, his warm breath curling around it and across the side of his neck. "You know you love how I smell."

"Shut up," Danny scoffed in denial. "Only because you cling to me every moment you can like a lost child—and your stink's clogged up all my pores!"

Steve buried his grin in the back of Danny's shoulder.

"Shuddup," the blond repeated. "Alright?"

"Whatever you say, Danno."

Silence fell on the pair as Honolulu played her night-time lullaby.

Danny snorted to himself, jolting Steve from his relaxed station on the cusp of slumber, Danny's breathing and beating heart blending seamlessly with the music of the island.

"What? What is it?" Steve questioned, alert.

"Did you really use that toxic sugar to make explosives?" Danny asked seriously, turning his head slightly back towards the dark-haired man, causing him to lean back into his chest. "Tell me honestly, Steven."

" _That's_ what you wake me up for?" he complained. "After everything we've been through to get to this moment? To get back into my bed?"

"Easy, buddy." Danny returned. "Answer the question." It was in his tell-me-the-answer-I-want-to-hear-or-I'm-going-to-go-Real-Jersey-Up-In-This-Piece tone.

"Of course I didn't, Danny. Really! Do you really think I'm that stupid? I know you always call me a caveman or buffoon—and they're laced with affection—but you think I would build an explosive with an unknown, unstable substance?"

"Yes. Yes, I would."

Steve groaned and banged his forehead lightly against the back of Danny's broad shoulder in frustration and irritation. "No, Danny. I did not make any explosives out of the Korean Sweet Sugar. I am really not as irresponsible as you seem to think I am."

Danny took a deep inhale. Not a calming breath, but a gearing-up breath—a gathering-wind-under-his-sails intake.

"Danny, Danny." Steve squeezed his waist. "Come back to me. Calm down."

"Calm down, he says. Calm down." He paused for a heavy moment, and then he gave a light laugh. "I'm calm. _You_ need to calm down, big guy." He patted Steve's hand clenched in his shirt at his sternum. "I know you aren't that stupid, Steve... at least I _hope_ you're not. God knows half—"

"I'm not." He growled.

"Alright, alright." Danny said in a slightly strained voice, smacking at Steve's taut forearm. "Maybe they broke the mould a **little** in the SEAL Replicator with you."

Steve grinned and eased his hold from vice-grip back to his original teddy-bear-hug. "Shut up, Danno. And go to sleep."

Danny grumbled for a minute under his breath, and shifted and squirmed in Steve's arms before he settled down. "Sure, babe."

Steve burrowed his face in the back of his partner's neck and shoulder, his body perfectly moulded with the shorter man's back. But it was a few moments later that he muttered, "You're helping me carry this back up the stairs in the morning."

"So long as you make me breakfast for my services." Danny replied easily.

"Only you, Danno." Steve chuckled. "Only you could make this into some sort of workman's comp."

"I know what I want, babe."

"This is the first I've heard of it."

"Well... I don't tell you _every little thing_ , now do I?"

Steve paused in mock-shock. "All theses years—and I **haven't** heard every little thing?"

"What happened to 'I love it when you talk,’ huh?"

"I lied. I just wanted to get you into my bed."

"Right." He snorted. "Why would I tell you all my secrets when I just have to say a few words and I can get you to do almost anything?" his tone was imperious.

It was Steve's turn to snort. "Please. I don't do anything I don't want to do."

"Alright." And Danny left it at that. Eyes closed, his hand lightly held Steve's wrist of the arm slung around his waist like a security blanket. As insane and dangerous as Steve could act, Danny always knew the man would react the same in his defense.

Steve's mind worked rapidly, thinking back and trying to find all the times that Danny had claimed to have manipulated him into doing something. Either the man was just making a tease, or he was more tacit than meets the eye. But then something slammed into his mind—Danny's back turned to him, walking away... Just the threat of Danny leaving would lead him to do anything. Not _almost anything_ , but **absolutely everything.** But then, Danny was right where he wanted to be, wasn't he? In Steve's bed, with Steve.

"I can hear the gears turning in your head, _Robo_ _Cop._ " Danny told him. "Go to sleep before you hurt yourself."

"Shut up."

"Mm-hm. Goodnight, Steven." He said pointedly.

Steve gave a heavy sigh. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

"Nope." Danny gave a laugh. "Night, babe. For real this time. I'm trying to sleep and all you wanna do is chit-chat, it's very distracting."

"I never thought I'd hear _that_ from _you_ ,"

"Crazy world. I never thought I would have to say it to _you_ of all people."

**H A W A I I . F I V E - 0**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so there it is. The fifth and final piece in the SUGAR series. I couldn't help it, I just had to stick these two back into bed. Tell me what you think, how did I do with these characters in this weird series that just kept getting odder—and thank you for readying!  
> I'm putting This Series as COMPLETE, but I may - and I stress the word MAY - add others if I come up with more ideas. :)


End file.
